Jake quickly returned to the grind after the Spurs game, facing off against the Bulls in a home game victory. However, the following four road games were rough, with the Kings managing only a 2-2 split. They fell to the Rockets and were once again beaten by the Spurs in San Antonio. By the time they returned to Sacramento in late November, a new challenge loomed: the red-hot Grizzlies, sitting second in the Western Conference with a 15-3 record, while the Kings held fourth with 12-6.
Despite their strong position, Jake had bigger concerns on his mind. His system had tasked him with getting two of his players into this year's All-Star Game. The reward? A mid-level boost pack, something Jake was eyeing eagerly after a previous boost had brought him powerful upgrades like a combo guard badge for CJ and a team-wide three-point booster card.
But the challenge was daunting. Sacramento, a small-market team with relatively low visibility, was in the Western Conference, a region stacked with talent. While CJ had developed into a first-tier guard, climbing the ranks of Western guards was no easy feat. The competition was fierce: Curry, Kobe, Harden, Paul, Lillard, and Thompson were all ahead of him. And behind them were even more contenders like Westbrook, Rondo, and... Jeremy Lin?
Jake paused when he saw Jeremy Lin on the voting list. Averaging around 12 points per game for the Lakers, Lin's stats didn't seem like enough to justify his position. But it quickly clicked—Lin's popularity with Asian fans gave him a boost that transcended his on-court numbers. Despite changes in the voting process to reduce the impact of international fan voting, China's massive population still had sway.
That realization lit a spark in Jake's mind. If Lin could leverage fan support to secure a spot, maybe the Kings could do the same. With renewed urgency, Jake stormed into the locker room, where Mike Malone was briefing the team on tactics. Grabbing Malone's hand, Jake practically dragged him out into the hallway.
"Mike, how many All-Stars do you think we can produce this year?" Jake's voice was intense.
"All-Stars?" Malone was caught off guard but began thinking. "Well, Cousins has a shot, for sure. CJ's made the list, but the West is stacked with great guards. It's a long shot."
"I don't care how slim the chances are. Can we get both CJ and Cousins into the All-Star Game?" Jake's tone was serious, and Malone could see that this wasn't a joke.
"Two All-Stars from Sacramento? That's almost impossible. We're playing well, but we're still a small market. The votes just aren't there," Malone responded cautiously.
"I get that it's tough, but is it possible?" Jake pressed. "Can we boost their numbers while keeping the team competitive?"
Malone hesitated but nodded. "I can give them more ball control, but they have to deliver—put the ball in the basket."
"That's fine. Let's push them. Create the stats they need," Jake said, trying to convince Malone. "Look, the team owner is watching this season closely. He's already thinking about bringing in a famous coach. I've been defending you, but we need results."
Malone's eyes widened at the implication. Rumors had been swirling, but Jake dropped a name that sent a chill down his spine: George Karl. If Karl was brought in, Malone knew his days could be numbered.
"Alright," Malone finally said, a new sense of urgency in his voice. "Let's do it your way."
"Well, well, well... what should I do?" Mike Malone felt his brain had short-circuited. Just a second ago, he was envisioning becoming the Kings' celebrated coach, and now Jake had dropped a bombshell—his job might be on the line.
"So, we have to do something—something that makes the boss reluctant to fire you," Jake said, his words sounding almost devilish. "For example, we could create two All-Stars this year. That way, not only will the team's performance stand out, but the boss will be too proud to let you go. What do you think?"
Mike, nodding furiously, seemed to be in full agreement. Jake felt a strange sense of satisfaction, realizing he had a knack for convincing people. Here was Mike Malone, a highly respected coach, and yet he had been swayed so easily.
Back in the locker room, Mike Malone returned with a newfound intensity. He scrapped all the previously planned tactics, commanding, "Alright, everyone, change of plans! When Cousins demands the ball in the paint, give it to him and clear the perimeter to give him room to work. As for the second lineup, I want you setting up screens and creating scoring chances for CJ. Got it?"
The players, taken aback by the sudden overhaul of strategy, hesitated for a moment. This was not their typical game plan. Normally, such tactics were reserved for situations when all other strategies had failed, and the game turned into a desperate attempt to outwit the opponent. But now, Malone was pushing this as their main approach.
Though confused, no one objected. There was only one person on the team who could've raised a challenge—Rudy Gay. But Gay, ever the laid-back, easygoing player, was more than happy to play a reduced role. Less responsibility meant less pressure, and for Gay, that meant more energy saved and less effort expended. It was a win-win for him.
And with that, the Kings were set on a new course—one driven by a bold plan, shaky at best, but driven by the desperate need to produce results. Jake had planted the seed, and now it was up to them to see if it could grow into something big enough to save Malone's job.